It has been a while, and my life is much different than I thought it would be at this point, but I am so happy to be learning again. Even if I am, at this very moment, taking another junior level English course, learning all about "plot, conflict, and characterization", not to mention "the history of the short story". Not exactly riveting or news to me, but it's better than watching yet another re-run of Everybody Loves Raymond.
Most of the time, anyway. That show is pretty funny.
With only a handful of courses to go before I complete this degree, the end is in sight. Once I've finished this course - which I have officially labeled my "return to university primer" - it will be time to move on to the bigger and better ones.
And then I will most likely return here with many a complaint of how busy I am and how I wish I were taking a simple course. Such is life.
It's funny how my perspective on schooling has changed in the past four years. I was almost in the home stretch when my son was born nearly five years ago, throwing an unexpected twist into my already chaotic life, but I had never fully appreciated what it meant to be able to participate in university.
Until I couldn't participate anymore.
I always thought it was a chore. I was lazy. I never booked my classes earlier than ten in the morning, and even then I had trouble getting to them on time. I rarely completed assignments earlier than the night before they were due. Skipping class was a skill I had perfected.
Not a stellar student, that's for sure.
I didn't appreciate the accumulation of knowledge. I also didn't care about doing it right, I just wanted to get it done, and get it done fast.
In these short years, I've discovered how much I love and missed learning. Not learning in the everyday sense, I have still been doing that. Learning how to maintain a loose grip on sanity, how to keep a tiny and very dependent human being alive, how to shower, dress, use the bathroom, eat, drive, sleep, etc., in front of two pairs of very small, but very watchful and absorbing eyes.
I miss purposeful learning. Learning something that would do more than help me survive everyday.
Taking time out of every day specifically to focus on learning something new.
Perhaps my kids have taught me patience. I feel more peaceful upon sitting down to type out notes or outline an essay. I don't feel rushed or inconvenienced.
Or perhaps it's because I know I only have a certain amount of time.
Before my kids came along, I had time. No one depended on me. I was the only one I needed to keep alive, and I could take one hell of a beating.
Or maybe I just miss the brain I know I had before conceiving, carrying and birthing two precious little chaos creators.
I know that brain is in here somewhere.
It's tucked away in the depths of pre-child me, chillin' with my smooth tummy and perfectly controlled bladder functions.
I heart school. When it comes right down to it, what more could I ask for but to have the ability to spend my free time doing what I love most? Reading, writing, and learning.
I really hope my love of learning will resonate with my kids and that they will love it just as much as I do.
But, if they're like me, they won't realize just how much they love it until they have time to miss it first.